


Hold Me Down

by GendryVonTeese



Series: Hold Me Down [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Bruises, Eye Sex, F/M, Flirting, Friends to Lovers, Hickeys, Makeout Aftermath, Martinski, POV Lydia, Shameless Stiles, Stiles Stilinski is a Tease, Stiles Stilinski's cute ass ruddy cheeks, Stydia, Sultry Stiles, Unresolved Sexual Tension, awkwardly arousing hallway stare downs, can i make that a thing?, lydia martin is also a tease lbr, stiles is v sultry in this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-27
Updated: 2016-02-27
Packaged: 2018-05-23 11:31:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,101
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6115159
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GendryVonTeese/pseuds/GendryVonTeese
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles does nothing to cover up the hickeys on his neck.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hold Me Down

**Author's Note:**

> "Hold Me Down" by Halsey is the patron swan song of this series.

Lydia Martin was greedy, and she definitely knew this.

After all, it was her greed that gave Stiles Stilinski the nebula on his neck. And her greed could paint a pretty picture.

Not that he tried to cover it up at all…

It is her best work yet - composed of two small cherry red bruises, and one larger purple one in the crease of his neck and shoulder. And Stiles has been walking around school this morning without a care in the world about it. Almost like he hasn’t noticed people’s jaws - honest to God - dropping around him. And it is _so obvious_ that he’s getting all of this attention for it. All eyes of all sexes have been on him since the bell rang for homeroom two hours ago. But Stiles hasn’t blinked an eye to it all day, hasn’t paid any mind to it. It’s just a regular day for Stiles, but Lydia knows it’s not that simple.

Lydia doesn’t know how she feels about it quite yet. She left last night with no evidence on her neck of their heavy make out session, and she doesn’t know if it was on purpose or not. She hadn’t even noticed until her mother was pulling up their driveway. But she’s eager for the next one. Well, hopefully there will _be_ a next one. Lydia doesn’t think she can last that long without it. He let her mark him up, and mark him up she did. Lydia marked Stiles _good._ And she knew it. And she loved it. It was lip biting, walking into school this morning and watching Stiles open his locker as she passed. She locked eyes with him for maybe a second, but looked straight ahead before he could suck her in the way he does, the way he did last night. She could feel him pause, and stare at her as she walked by him, and it made her chest feel hot. Was it bad that it made her feel a little smug? That she had trouble not smiling?

It wasn’t that she was surprised to see the hickeys, per se. But it was the color, the composition, the God damned chiaroscuro. And, _oh, the canvas_. She was impressed with herself just as much as she was impressed with Stiles Stilinski’s complete lack of shame. And it shot her power walk to her locker to infinite.

But she has yet to speak to Stiles, and she made an effort today to keep her phone in her locker. The temptation to click on his name would have kept her distracted during Calculus, and Lydia doesn’t like distractions when numbers are involved. As soon as she felt that familiar text message vibration three times in a row, she threw her phone right into her bag hanging on its hook without even looking at it. God knows what he sent her.

Homeroom gets her mind off of it, but after her second class of the day, she floats in and out of replays between Stiles last night and Stiles in the hallway this morning. Snippets of cut and rewind images, ghostly touches, hot palms.

She still doesn’t know what she wants to say to him. But she has lunch now, which means she can think about it before she has AP Chemistry with the man himself. Perhaps then, in the buzzing isolation of the cafeteria and Allison studying for Econ, she can decide what to do with him?

***

Lydia was wrong.

Lydia was very, _very_ wrong.

“Are you feeling okay?” Allison asks, capping her highlighter.

Lydia inhales deeply before turning back to her best friend. She looks her right in the eyes. “Of course. Why wouldn’t I be?”

Allison shrugs, “I don’t know, every time I look up it’s like you’re somewhere else.”

She raises her eyebrows. “Everyone at lunch thinks that they’re somewhere else, darling.”

Allison rolls her eyes playfully in response. “Right, other people do. You do not. You solve Sudoku puzzles in pen and help me with my Bio homework. And occasionally talk about things that piss you off. Are you daydreaming or something?”

Lydia flushes. She isn’t daydreaming, she’s just being quasi eye-fucked by Stiles who is sitting two tables over and facing her dead on.

She straightens her back and eats more of her yogurt. “I’m bored with Sudoku puzzles,” she lies. “And we finished your Bio worksheet yesterday.”

Allison narrows her eyes. “Mm-hmm.”

“Mr. Greeves doesn’t give extra credit questions on his Econ tests.” Lydia gestures for her to continue studying with a simple incline of the head.

“My test isn’t until-“

“Give me four reasons why inefficiencies occur in Unites States markets.”

Allison gives her a deadpan expression and lolls her head back. A defeated sigh leaves her body before going back to the text book in front of her.

Lydia counts to ten before looking over Allison’s shoulder. Yes, Stiles’ eyes are still on her. He’s smiling, smirking almost. He bites into a big red apple and rests his cheek on his knuckles with his elbow upright on the table like some wanton renaissance period harlot. Stupid Stiles with his big knuckles on his big hands, with elegant and strong fingers, and a wide palm and- _Did he just wink?_ She snaps out of her daze, and narrows her eyes at him.

Normally she wouldn’t stoop this low, she thinks it’s tacky, but Stiles deserves to be messed with. For some unwarranted reason, he’s in a particular mood right now, and she can accost to it if she sees fit.

She takes a spoonful of yogurt and eats it as slowly as possible, turning it upside in her mouth, making sure she her lips stretch over the widest part of the spoon. He’s been distracting her since she sat down, and she hasn’t thought about a single thing besides the heat of his hands on her thighs. She a little turned on, and a little annoyed about it. He thinks he’s going to have the upper hand? She could scoff at the thought.

Stiles’ jaw tightens significantly. He pauses before swallowing his apple bite down his throat noticeably. But not before she puts the curve of the spoon back in her mouth, giving it one long final lick.

Stiles narrows his eyes back at her but she doesn’t get to see his comeback. Scott pulls Stiles out of their little game and brings him into some random conversation. And just like that, his focus is gone and his apple gets put back on his tray like he would never in a million years proposition Lydia in the middle of lunch.

***

By the time Lydia gets to AP Chemistry she’s wired and hot and anxious. Lydia's lab table is to the left of Stiles' lab table, and her only sanction is the three feet between them. She had a plan, damn it! Well, not really a plan, but she was planning to have a plan! And now she has nothing but a thrum going through her body. All over a mental replay of Stiles biting into an apple.

_For heaven’s sake, get a grip._

She doesn’t know what’s come over him today but there is a deep, very _very_ deep, part of her that is impressed. It’s been a long time since someone could hold her attention for beyond one night, or weekend. This thing with Stiles, whatever it is that is going on between them, it feels new and exciting, but also comforting. Not like hooking up with a stranger or holding someone’s hand for the first time. It’s exciting on a whole separate platform, different from other experiences. When her brain gets ahead of her and she thinks about it for too long, Lydia feels like freaking out. However, each time she’s wanted to put that wall up, that fake indifference, it hasn’t worked. The wall tumbles down. Like an equation that really just equals zero. Her mind breaks it apart brick by brick as soon as it goes up. It’s flat... her wall is freaking flat.

The strength she once had to focus just on herself and no one else had morphed and realigned itself a multitude of times over the course of the year. She feels a space filling up now. A space she didn’t know was empty until last night. Remembering what she did, how her hands roamed his chest… Oh, boy, did it feel good to give in.

Stiles breaks Lydia’s ping pong of an emotional breakdown and starts clicking his pen erratically. It pulls her out of her headspace at once.

She turns to look at him, flicking her high ponytail over her shoulder. “Stilinski.”

He takes a deep breath and rolls his neck before sitting up straighter in his chair. “Martin,” he responds, turning to her.

Lydia fights the urge to take a deep breath. Her pre-plan plan was shot to shit. All she has now is this to work with. “Do you mind-”

“You seem distracted,” he interrupts, turning his attention back to their teacher.

Three seconds and then she quips, “I am. By your pen.”

Stiles has the gall to bite his lower lip. Lydia’s eyes go straight to it. “Right. My _pen._ ”

The way he says it implies something else. Smart ass. “Yes.”

“Maybe I was trying to distract you.” He shrugs.

Lydia gives his profile a nice, long once-over. She lets herself appreciate the hickeys on display. How many teachers did he embarrass today by not covering up his neck? Did he let them write him up? Give him detentions? Or did he let everyone slowly suffer?

Her eyes roam back up, and she sees him looking at her. She’s doubtful he’s wearing mascara but really at this point his lashes are just so fluttery it’s reached the point of indecency.

 _Wait a minute._  
  
“Like you did at lunch?”

“Was I? Because I’m pretty sure someone was assaulting a spoon in the middle of the cafeteria.” Stiles tilts his head ever so slightly – just enough to make it condescending. His eyes amusingly pass over Lydia's face as she speaks.

“I was teaching someone a lesson,” she explains patiently, making her voice as soft and delightful as possible (what Allison calls her vixen voice).

Stiles pauses his visual consumption to snap his eyes back to hers. A small smile curves into the corner of his mouth and he bites at it, pinching his lips in a tight pout. He shakes his head. Turns to face the front of the class. Laughs quietly to himself. Just the softest of chuckles, a quick set of exhales. Lydia wishes she was close enough to feel that air hit her neck.

She swallows roughly and turns to face their AP Chemistry teacher.

Lydia is secretly thankful that they aren’t Chem partners. Stiles has Terrence Johns, and Lydia shares her lab table with Elizabeth something-or-other. She’s been meaning to know her better at some point but obviously certain distractions have clouded her social skills as of late. She doubts she’s missing much, anyway. All Elizabeth does is mumble “oh, my God” after the first ten seconds of every test. The one good thing about being far enough away from Stiles was that the walkway aisle in the class room was in between their lab tables. There were 34 people in her class, a mix of juniors and seniors, and they were closer towards the back of the room. Lydia will be able to focus, for sure, once the teacher starts walking around and rambling about the review questions in their text book. Which she does every Friday.

On the other end, the bad thing about having Stiles three feet way was that _he was three feet way_.

“Who can describe the structure of amino acids?” Mrs. Kent asks the class.

Lydia raises her hand, praying for an easy distraction. Mrs. Kent picks her immediately. She answers in descriptive detail to her teacher and her whole class, like the good student she is... Regardless of the heat coming from a certain pair of eyes on her right.

“Excellent, Lydia.” Mrs. Kent turns around and walks closer to the middle of the room. “And how does that structure differ from what we know about biological molecules?”

The  space between her and Stiles’ lab tables are wide open once again. Before Lydia can anticipate anything, a note lands on her desk.

**Did you get my texts?**

She stomps the urge to ask him about them.

**_Phone’s in my locker._ **

Mrs. Kent picks up chalk and turns her back to the class, and Lydia throws the note back at Stiles. She jots down some notes from the chalkboard while she waits for his response. Stiles eventually folds the piece of paper and throws it on her notebook after half a minute.

**I’ve been thinking about you all day.**

Of course once Lydia’s calmed down, she flushes right back up again. She swallows another lump down and closes her eyes. She opens them and looks at the ground at first, trying to gain the courage to look at Stiles. Lydia knows already what his face is going to look like. She looks hard at the tiles where Mrs. Kent just stood. She takes her time. Recites a haiku in her head.

She blinks up. Stiles isn’t even taking notes. His eyebrows are slightly creased, the heat in his eyes embarrassingly unsettling. It’s like the only thing stopping him from put his hands on her is the fact that they’re in school, in public. Lydia rubs her hands over her throat, plays with her necklace a bit.

**_What did that apple ever do to you?_ **

She watches his face crinkle when he reads her words.

**Apples are symbols of forbidden fruit.**

She rolls her eyes.

**_Tell me something I don’t know._ **

Stiles writes back lightening fast, like he was counting on Lydia to say exactly that.

**The apple had it coming. I needed a temporary fix. A substitute until I can take a bite out of the real thing.**

Lydia’s stomach drops and it feels like static prickling her insides.

She really, _really_ shouldn’t be suffering like this. Today feels like the fucking day of emphasis, doesn’t it? She must be ill or something. Since when did Stiles say shit like that? And why is it effecting her? Something about his tone, the way she can imagine him whispering these words in her ear… Lydia’s never purposefully tried to play up her innocence, at least not to her peers. She was innocent by default in the eyes of those who saw her fit to be. Only used her powers for good unless she needed something from an authority figure. Or the co-captain of the basketball team. Or the school’s newspaper editor- well, okay. She knows how to work around people sometimes, she’s guilty of that, but pretending to be some romanticized little angel isn’t her style.

But Stiles is making her feel like there’s an innocence to her that’s forbidden, and tainted. Just like metaphorical forbidden fruit. And it’s getting her hot. Especially when he never put his mouth to her neck like she did to his neck.

She never thinks about how Stiles sees her. She always just assumes he likeswhat he sees. They had gotten so close over the last several months, she sometimes forgot he even had an attraction to her. I guess she was that for him once, right? Something forbidden he couldn’t have…

But who says he can have her? Who says she won’t change her mind about the whole thing tomorrow? Maybe she doesn’t like his sudden confidence.

Except she does. She totally does. More than she should.

She needs to nip this in the bud. Mrs. Kent is reviewing possible essay topics for their next test. She’s in the middle of AP Chemistry! For crying out loud!

**_We are in the middle of AP Chemistry._ **

She crumples the note into a ball this time. Throws it right at Stiles’ nose.

He reads it, rolls his eyes to the ceiling, and smiles at Lydia. A real smile. Like he knows what he’s doing to her and he’s gotten to the peak of what he’s been waiting for.

Lydia should be freaking out. She’s freaking out. Stiles Stilinski understands her personal cues. What the fuck.

She forgets that she’s been staring and resumes pretending that she’s mentally sound. Stiles morphs himself back on familiar ground. He’s still smiling when he mouths “Sorry” to her, before picking up his pencil and facing the board.

Lydia blinks.

_Huh._

She, too, turns to face the front and resumes her note taking. All the while, replaying what the hell just happened. She can’t remember the last time anyone read between the lines, understood what she was saying, truly. And something so simple, such a short and playful reprimand, brought good old wholesome Stiles back to the surface. Like a switch.

Lydia Martin can rile Stiles up all she wants, but she can bring him back down, too.

“Huh,” escapes through her lips before she realizes her teacher’s erased the other half of the chalkboard already, and is starting on the intro for the next chapter. The space between Lydia’s eyebrows creases in confusion.

Holy shit.

Stiles Stilinski is a fucking babe. A smart, AP Chemistry taking, nerdy video game playing, comic-con attending, infuriatingly irritating babe. He is a god damn 4.0 GPA regulation hottie. He’s a secret sassy Peter Parker in khakis and a graphic tee. With a sharper whit, and a prettier arrangement of beauty marks.

And Lydia’s been worried about letting him into her life? What was she thinking?

He’s already in her life. She couldn’t get rid of him if she tried. This isn’t just lust, or some PMS hormone symptom, or Lydia romanticizing a guy because she’s just lonely. No…

No. For once, Lydia realizes what the hell is going on. This isn’t a fever she can sweat out. She’d let herself crush on Stiles this whole time and she had no idea.

She doesn’t have a problem being alone. She’s happy being alone. But she _wants_ to spend time with Stiles. She wants to touch his shoulders and his hands and his neck. She thought she could play with him in his room with the lights off. But the jokes on Lydia, isn’t it?

Everything about Stiles is igniting her one flame at a time.

Class ends. The bell rings, and Stiles walks her to her next class.

She turns to face him when they reach the door to the art room.

She feels excited, buzzing with that kind of self revelation that causes people to do reckless things in the heat of the moment.

“We should study for that test on Monday.” It comes out a whisper but she’s too focused on his slightly parted mouth to care. He’s surprised, and that right there reassures her that this is right. What she feels is right. He wasn’t expecting her to say anything like that, it’s written clear as day all over his face. It makes him all the more endearing when his smile disappears and his jaw loosens gradually as the words sink in. His mouth goes lax.

She reaches for him. Lightly, she grabs the side of his neck with the hickeys. Marks of passion that Stiles wears like a pledge of allegiance. Lydia takes her time, watches her fingers graze over his skin. He blushes and he can’t bring his eyes up to look at her. Just watches her hand instead. She’s hypnotized, now, with those pink cheeks. What a vision.

She’s selfish, a little bit, isn’t she? She’ll take what she wants, in the end. Typical Lydia Martin.

She feels a smirk form on her face, just the smallest one. Barely noticeable. What’s more noticeable are her blatant caresses in the middle of a crowded hallway with a boy who has become the school’s biggest fucking tease.

He’s getting redder by the second.

“When?” he croaks, because he speaks Lydia Martin and he knows what she’s saying.

“I have to work on my art mid-term tonight. They’re keeping the studio open until 8 o’clock for art students.” Her mid-term was just assigned to her but Stiles doesn’t need to be told that she likes to start her mid-terms two weeks ahead of schedule because that’s how she is and he knows and he always knew.

“You’re mom’s picking you up.”

“Yeah,” she mumbles, dragging her hand down and over his clavicle.

He takes a deep breath and doesn’t tell her to stop. But he does meet her eyes.

“Come over tomorrow night. Dad’s gonna be working night shift at the station.”

Stiles Stilinski, so boyish and cute, flushed as he is, straightens his neck and refuses to blink until she says yes. And she does.

“Where are you going now?” She lays her hand flat on the center of his chest, over his white tee.

He takes a step forward.

“The bathroom.”

And, fuck, Lydia was not expecting _that_ to come out of his mouth.

She feels his chest rise and fall under her palm, a motion she hadn’t noticed until she remembered that she was still touching him. At school. The bell was going to ring in less than two minutes.

“You have to get to class, Stiles,” she tells him, but it comes out weak. It feels like a plea to her but she knows it sounds like an invitation to him. She keeps staring at her hand on his chest. He moves closer, moves them off to the side, away from student traffic and the entrance to the art room. People are staring.

Her hand drops to her side and she looks up at him through her lashes. She’s sweating.

“I’ll make it before the bell, don’t worry.”

She nods because that’s all she can do.

“I can be quick when I want to be.”

“I’m sure,” she offers quickly, just to say something back.

He looks at her lips, and that contemplative eyebrow creased face from earlier is back. His cheeks are still ruddy all over the hell, his neck still flushed, his bruises popping out like the petals on a hydrangea. Jesus, he looks like porn.

Lydia keeps her mouth shut, breathes out through her nose. She keeps her breath as steady as she can.

He looks confused for a second, like he’s considering something in his head. But then a small laugh escapes his perfect lips. He does that thing, that signature nervous Stiles thing, where he looks at the floor and scratches the other side of his neck.

Stiles turns his voice into an instrument of deep whispers. “I- I think I have a praise kink,” he laughs, biting his lip. Oh, Christ, he’s red from head to toe.

Lydia cannot breathe.

She opens her mouth to say something but she’s dumbfounded. Makes sense, she guesses? He hasn’t had enough praise, not like the other guys at school, and he definitely deserves-

“Not for _me_ ,” he clarifies, with a rasp in his voice.

The bell rings but the sound doesn’t truly register until Stiles leans out of her space and grazes his hand down her arm. Stiles is definitely not going to make it to class on time.

“I’ll see you tomorrow.”

An involuntary shiver runs through Lydia. She watches Stiles turns around and make his way to, oh, yes, that’s… that’s definitely the boys’ bathroom. She quickly turns around and opens the door to the art room, just to stop herself from watching him actually go in. She needs to get her head above water. Art class has already started.

Mrs. Briggs greets the class before jumping right into classwork. "Today we are going to explore still life drawing with light HB values. Grab your kneaded erasers and your kits. Get comfortable. We’ll be working with no break today. I want everyone to draw the apple at the center of the table over and over again. We’ll start once everyone is prepared. " 

Lydia can do this, absolutely. One last class until the end of the day. She can absolutely stay focused until then. Yes. Yes, she can.

"Focus only on the apple. Depth perception is all on you, it can be any size you want, at any angle. As long as you give me at least three different apple still life drawings by the end of class and make sure you change your light sources each time. Yes, Lydia?”

“May I use the bathroom?”

**Author's Note:**

> So it's been 2 years... hehe... oops? I didn't mean for it to take this long! And yes, I decided to make this a series. We'll see how it goes lol. I went through a sort of writing dry spell which stopped me from writing for a while. This is the first update I've made since I first started this fic. I'm sorry! However I will say that I feel like there is so much more for me to work with now since the show has progressed so much. Not sure what path Lydia and Stiles will be on but none the less, I enjoy writing for the Stydia fandom :)


End file.
